


Please

by being_alive



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, oh...you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 21:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: You've seen Tybalt fall apart in anger and in despair, in frustration and in sadness, but nothing compares to the way he's falling apart now, and that is in desperation.





	Please

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written one of these.

You've seen Tybalt fall apart in anger and in despair, in frustration and in sadness, but nothing compares to the way he's falling apart now, and that is in desperation. You sit in the chair you'd pulled close to the foot of his bed, and watch him. His long legs are splayed wide, his chest is heaving, his face is contorted in pleasure, and his hand is currently wrapped tight around the hard length of his cock. 

When you and he had first began this, him touching himself and you watching him, his strokes had been languid and his gaze near teasing, but now, his fist moves furiously up and down, the expression on his face making his desperation more than clear. He's normally so composed, so decent, so perfectly composed, that you treasure the sight of him like this all the more.

Of course, you're hardly decent either, not with the way the neck of your dress is gaping loosely and the way your skirt is hiked up around your thighs. Normally, you'd be more composed too, but, well, the way he looks at you is worth it, his black gaze nearly a caress on your breasts and your thighs.

When he actually is looking at you, you mentally correct yourself, because right now his eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

"Stop," you say, as you have what has to be a dozen other times in the near hour that you and he have been playing this game. His eyes fly open at the sound of your voice and slowly, reluctantly, he removes his hand from his cock and clutches at the bedspread instead.

"Please," he says, nearly begging, his voice pitched lower than it normally is, and you simply smile and look at him. 

Tybalt really is a beautiful man, you think to yourself, admiring the shining black waves of his hair, the high cheekbones flushed red, the pointed slant of his jaw, the line of his nose, and then his lips, already soft in his normal state, but bitten red and puffy after you'd told him to be quieter. 

You meet his gaze, hot and black and above all else _desperate_. Your smile widens and then your gaze drifts lower, down his graceful neck and his lean chest and flat stomach, and then lower, down the dark trail of hair leading from his navel to the dark thatch of hair between his legs, and then finally to his cock.

Even his cock is pretty, you admit to yourself, a heat that had just barely started to dissipate after you'd told him to stop coming back full force as you admire this specific piece of his anatomy. His cock is long and thick, bigger than any other you've seen, curved ever so slightly, and currently so hard that his desperation is understandable, the head flushed nearly as bright as his face and with clear fluid leaking from the tip.

You reluctantly look back up at his face and then ask, innocently, too innocently, gazing at him from under your eyelashes as you ask, "Please _what_ , sweet Tybalt?"

"Anything," he says quickly, his voice hurried as he continues, "Touch me, let me come, anything. Just please don't leave me like this."

You continue staring at him for several moments more, and then nod and rise from your chair before saying, "Well, since you've been so good for me, I suppose I can do something for you."

Something resembling a whimper tears itself from his throat as you climb onto the bed and then crawl up to where you can sit beside him. You sit so close to him that the two of you are pressed hip to hip, thigh to thigh. After turning slightly, you reach up and run the tips of your fingers across his collarbone, and then back to the dip in the middle and then down, tracing empty patterns across his chest and stomach but never lower, until he says once more, "Please."

"What?" You ask, looking at him as you continue, "I thought you wanted me to touch you."

"Not like this," Tybalt replies, looking down at you, because even sitting side by side he's still taller than you because of course he would be, and meeting your gaze.

"What is it you want, then?" You ask in your sweetest voice, the very tip of one of your fingers trailing back up his stomach and then over to trace around one of his nipples.

A moment passes and then Tybalt, proud Tybalt, is begging you to touch him, his words falling fast from his reddened lips, "Please. I've been good, you said I have, so please, please let me come, let me feel your hands on my cock, please."

"All right," you state, simply, smiling at him, trailing your hand back down his chest and stomach, and then wrap your hand around his cock. He hisses in a breath at your touch, and with a final _please_ you tighten your grip and begin to stroke. He moans, loudly, and you don't even care to tell him to be quiet, not with the way his hips buck up into you and especially not with the way he's looking at you, desire burning dark in his half-lidded gaze. 

You quicken your pace, gripping his cock tightly but not enough to hurt, your free hand coming to rest on his thigh and then sliding in, until you're able to cup his balls in your hand. You squeeze them, lightly, gently, and something resembling a grunt pulls its way from his throat. You lighten your touch on that one particular area, but keep your hand there, fingers dancing over his skin, all while you continue to stroke his cock. 

You briefly consider leaning down and taking him into your mouth, but decide against it, because that's not what this is about, and besides, judging by the sounds falling from his lips and the way in which he thrusts up into your grip, you doubt it'll be long before he reaches his peak.

You keep your gaze locked upon his face, determined to watch his expression when he comes, heat growing inside of you as you watch him, and sure enough, it's mere moments before he reaches completion, his cock twitching in your hand and the loudest moan you've heard from him yet tearing its way from his throat and his eyes squeezing shut. 

You stroke him through it, feeling only small drops of his release falling onto your hand, and briefly glance down from his face to see that the majority of his release is streaked across is stomach in thick ropes of seed. Soon, his hips have stilled and his breathing has begun to return to normal, and you pull your hands away from his balls and his now-softening cock. 

You wipe your hand on the inside of your skirt, and grab a handkerchief from the table beside his bed and wipe his stomach clean. He opens his eyes just slightly to watch you, his dark gaze following the movement of your hand. When you're done, you toss the handkerchief aside and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. He kisses you back, slowly, lazily, and above all, satisfied. 

When you part from the kiss, you settle in beside him, pressed up against him, his head resting against yours, and soon silence overtakes you.

"Do you want me to repay the favor?" Tybalt asks after several long moments have passed. The ache between your thighs urges you to say _yes_ , but instead you reply, "Later."

You can feel him nod against you, and then bring one hand up to stroke his hair.


End file.
